


Hen

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/M, Female Bilbo, Femdom, Ficlet, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, PWP, Polyamory, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin returns to the pack, having fulfilled Bilbo’s wishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hen

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Alpha female Bilbo and her omega companions” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=22893012#t22893012).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Kíli’s young and learning, but his eagerness makes up for his inexperience, and Bilbo’s thorough with his training. Sometimes he’s premature—like his brother, who’s still tied up at the foot of Bilbo’s bed for the improper behaviour of coming before she let him—but Kíli’s mouth is still enjoyable. She’s trimmed the scruff of his beard to be the shortest of the group, and she enjoys the light stubble scratching along her thighs as he laps his tongue inside her, twisting to try all the tricks he’s been shown. 

With the skirt of her dress hiked up around her waist, Bilbo’s on her couch, as she so often is—life has become very easy, now that she has thirteen dwarves flocking to her every whim. Kíli sits between her legs, her fingers in his long, silky brown hair to hold him in, and her eyes somewhere over his head on the display atop her floor. Ori’s lying on his back, his head nestled on a couch pillow and occasionally tilting back to look up at her, while his legs are hiked over Dwalin’s lap. Ori’s far louder than she is, crying out in pleasure at every thrust of Dwalin’s thick cock, Dwalin’s own voice a twist of hisses and growls. His thick fingers are dug into Ori’s waist, his shirt removed and his trousers open so Bilbo can enjoy the view. Ori’s the only one who’s naked, though any of them would drop their clothes the instant she bid it. Between the bounce of Ori’s round belly and the taut expanse of Dwalin’s broad chest, it’s difficult to decide where to look. At least Bofur’s got his clothes on, perched on the other end of her couch, fixing one of her doilies.

Off in the kitchen, she can hear the faint rustle of Bombur and Nori making her dinner, Dori somewhere in the pantry. Bifur should be out in the garden, Glóin around there playing with little Gimli, at least until she has a use for him. Óin and Balin she sent to Lobelia for the night as a begrudging peace offering. Balin was picked as punishment for suggesting she mend family fences in the first place, and Óin because, for whatever strange reason, he seems to actually _like_ the horrible woman. When the front door opens in the distance, she knows that Thorin’s come home from shopping. 

He reaches the living room just as Dwalin finishes inside Ori, screaming in delight. Dwalin slams his hips brutally forward into the smaller dwarf, who slides along the floor and gasps, arching up to take what Dwalin gives him. As Dwalin pounds out his release, Ori dissolves into needy moans, still hard but tied around the base. Being younger, she needs to train him. Dwalin’s already loyal and perfectly obedient, so she lets him pull out to spread his still-leaking seed over Ori’s sweaty body, grinding the white mess into peach skin. 

Thorin steps carefully around them and stands at the side so as not to obscure her view. He’s as good as Dwalin, and in another world, she thinks, he could’ve been their leader. But life dealt him the pheromones of an underling, and circumstance has delivered him and his companions right to her doorstep. For all the fuss she first put up, she’s never since regretted it. 

Bilbo doesn’t play favourites. But Thorin’s close, and she fists her fingers in Kíli’s hair; he stops automatically. His tongue goes still between her moist lips, pulling back into his mouth, staying open so his warm breath can ghost across her entrance. He looks up at her through his messy fringe, but her attention’s slid to Thorin. She tugs Kíli’s hair to make him keep going again, and he snaps to life. He sucks at her soft folds and plunges his tongue back inside, while her breath hitches and she asks, “Did you do it?”

Thorin says, “Yes.” His deep, rumbling voice makes everything a near-purr, sensuous even when he isn’t trying to be. She can see that he wants to grin with pride at completing her task, but he keeps his face stoic because that’s simply how he is. Bilbo can’t stop herself from smiling. She has power in her, but sometimes it’s difficult to maintain the aloof air of their master when she likes her dwarves so very much. 

Beside her, Bofur chirps, “Done.” He holds up the freshly-fixed doily, beaming with pride. Bilbo turns to look at him, and he shuffles closer to peck her cheek, his mustache tickling enough to make her laugh. As he slips off the couch to put the doily back where it belongs, Thorin sheds his tunic, having left his coat and boots at the door—something it took a while to train all her dwarves to do. It’s impossible to look away as he strips the rough material over his head, revealing all smooth skin with dark, matted hair, his strong chest always of interest. He tosses the tunic to the couch and stands before her in only his trousers, arching slightly forward to present himself. He exudes confidence in his eyes, though she can see in his eyes where he knows he must compete to have her attention. Even Dwalin and Ori, now rubbing aimlessly against one another, peer up to look at him. 

He did exactly what she asked. His brown nipples, now pebbled and slightly pink like they’ve been teased too much, are pierced through the middle. Each sports a small, golden hoop, and a long, thin chain drapes between them, dipped just enough to have some give. They all look good in toys, whether it be collars or cuffs or corsets, but Thorin always looks particularly ravishing in _gold_. His broad, flat chest deserves adorning, and for a good few minutes, Bilbo simply eyes her prize, letting the view add to the pleasure Kíli brings her. 

Then she reaches out a hand, and he steps up to her. She grabs the chain and tests it with a little tug, enjoying the way Thorin’s nipples strain and he hisses deep in his throat. When her fingers reach one nipple, she rubs across his pecs to the other, musing aloud, “I’m going to have to let someone rub between your tits one of these days.” Her language has become cruder since acquiring dwarves, but that’s to be expected. Thoughts like this make it worth it. Of course, she loves to grind her body against Thorin’s chest herself, just as she likes to touch him _everywhere_ , but at the moment she entertains the image of a Dwarven cock slipping between his breasts. His muscles might be large enough to squish around a shaft to give a little friction. If nothing else, she’d like to see another dwarf sit on his chest, perhaps while she sits on his face. Tracing his nipple with her thumb, Bilbo lifts her other hand to grab one of the braids that trails down Thorin’s shoulder. She pulls him down to lean over Kíli, low enough to kiss her. 

Kissing Thorin always makes her especially hungry. He starts respectful, revenant, and then she pushes her tongue against his and he becomes ferocious, shoving his face against hers to try and devour her mouth. He’s a beast beneath his pretty exterior, but that’s one of the many reasons she loves him. When she’s finished, she can see him wanting to growl and pick her up to carry to the bed. 

She has similar ideas herself. But first she has to push Kíli away, who goes with a little whine and slicked-wet chin. “I’m going to play with your uncle now,” she announces without taking her eyes of Thorin. In her peripherals, she can see Kíli slump, but she knows he’ll perk back up once she releases his brother for him to play with—Fíli hasn’t behaved well enough to witness the oncoming show. 

Bilbo climbs off the couch around him. She slips her finger into Thorin’s trousers and tugs him by them to the bedroom, only just remembering to call, “Ori, you can finish.”


End file.
